


you're just too good to be true

by radianceofthefuture



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Enjolras Doesn’t Know When People Are Flirting With Him, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Oblivious Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radianceofthefuture/pseuds/radianceofthefuture
Summary: Joly vibrates with excitement as he introduces them, and Grantaire laughs fondly. Joly and Bossuet had overwhelmingly positive things to say about this guy in advance, and it’s clear from watching them interact that Grantaire holds them in the same esteem. He smiles at Combeferre, shakes hands with Courfeyrac, then turns to Enjolras and–Oh, come on.(Or: the one where Enjolras never notices when people are flirting with him.)





	you're just too good to be true

**Author's Note:**

> I made a post about this on Tumblr and it kind of blew up, so I said I'd write it. Now here we are.

There are times, Courfeyrac thinks to himself, when Enjolras’ good looks are an absolute waste. This is one of those times.

They’re at the Café Musain, and the line is moving more slowly than usual because Louison is training a new barista, and he is clearly not a fast learner. Neither Enjolras nor Courfeyrac has to be anywhere quickly, and Enjolras has this whole thing about being courteous to food service workers no matter what, so they’re being patient. That isn’t the issue. The issue arises when they get to the front of the line.

The new barista turns to them with a nervous smile that melts away when his eyes find Enjolras; it is replaced with an expression of wide-eyed wonder.

Oh, no.

“Hey,” the guy says, dragging out the vowels for what must be a full ten seconds. Courfeyrac can see his eyes drag over Enjolras’ body before finding his face again. “How can I be of service?”

Enjolras doesn’t look up from the pastry case. “I’ll have a large black coffee with three espresso shots, please. How long have these lemon scones been sitting out?”

“I don’t know,” says the barista. “I’m new here; that might be why you don’t recognize me, in case you were wondering.”

Enjolras is still looking thoughtfully at the scones. “I think I’ll have one. Why not, right?”

“Exactly,” the guy agrees, too quickly. “I mean, you’ve gotta try everything once. That’s my philosophy. I’m very flexible in that way.”

And then he honest-to-God bats his eyelashes at Enjolras.

Enjolras doesn’t even seem to register this, and he turns to Courfeyrac. “What do you want, Courf?”

“I’ll take a large mocha, please,” Courfeyrac says. The barista hardly seems to register that he’s even there.

“So, are you a regular customer?” he asks Enjolras.

“Yeah,” Enjolras answers, digging for his wallet. “My friends and I are all students, so we come here a lot, since it’s so conveniently located.”

“Awesome,” the barista says. “So hopefully I’ll be seeing…a lot more of you in the future.”

At this point, Courfeyrac has to step in.

“Enjolras,” he says.

“Hold on, I’m trying to see if I have exact change,” Enjolras says, squinting into the depths of his wallet.

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says again, more forcefully. “It’s happening again.”

At this, Enjolras looks up, blinking. “Wait, you mean he’s—”

“Yeah.”

Enjolras sighs, then turns to the barista.

“Look,” he searches for a nametag, “Michel, I’m not interested. I’m sorry, but it’d be better for both of us if you could just…not.”

The barista – Michel – blinks, then scowls. “Fine. Your loss. Whatever. You just don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Enjolras frowns. “Right, and I don’t especially care to find out, actually.”

“Fine,” Michel says, and slams Enjolras’ scone down onto the counter. “Your coffee will be ready in about five minutes. Have a nice day, or whatever.”

“Thanks a lot,” Enjolras says, making the words cold and biting in a way that only Enjolras can, and stalks away to a table. Courfeyrac follows.

“What an asshole,” Enjolras spits, as soon as they’re seated and safely out of earshot. “I tell him I’m not interested, and he’s barely even hospitable. Can you believe that sense of entitlement?”

“I know,” Courfeyrac agrees, “He was awful.”

“I hate it when this happens.”

“I know, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says, although he’s sure that Enjolras would hate it even more if he knew how much it actually happens.

See, here’s the thing about Enjolras.

Enjolras is easily the best-looking person Courfeyrac has ever met. He’s one of those people who’s just objectively beautiful; even if you’re like Courfeyrac and you’ve known him for far too long to actually be attracted to him, you still can’t help but notice it. It stops you in your tracks. Therefore, it makes some kind of sense that a lot of people, once they’ve finished blinking the sunspots out of their eyes, make desperate passes at him. It happens so frequently, in fact, that Enjolras, never all that finely attuned to the nuances of interpersonal interaction in the first place, doesn’t even notice it when it’s happening. It isn’t always a bad thing; in fact, there are times when it’s gloriously funny to witness. But sometimes it starts to look like it might go too far, and then what kind of friend would Courfeyrac be if he didn’t step in?

At some point, though, he knows Enjolras is going to flirt back.

What a wonder that will be to behold.

*

“Enjolras, what the hell is taking you so long?” Courfeyrac says, in a very reasonable and dignified tone of voice that does not in any way resemble a whine.

Combeferre makes a noise in his throat that sounds suspiciously like a smothered laugh. Courfeyrac scowls at him, then goes back to drumming the bassline from “Another One Bites the Dust” onto Enjolras’ bedroom door.

“Calm the fuck down, I’ll be out in a second,” Enjolras calls out in response.

“We have plenty of time,” Combeferre points out. “There’s still about half an hour before we’re supposed to meet everyone else at the restaurant, and no matter what, we’ll still be there before Joly and Bossuet.”

“But I thought the whole point of this dinner was for Joly and Bossuet to introduce us all to their friend. Why would they be late?”

“Grantaire’s reputation precedes him,” Combeferre says. “I think there’s a chance that we’re all going to get a lot less productive now that he’s transferring here.”

Enjolras’ door swings open, nearly hitting Courfeyrac in the face. He’s scowling, and it’s clear that he was halfway through picking out a knot in his hair when he decided to join them in the hallway; there’s a clump in the light coils right over his left eye, and he’s clutching a hair pick.

“I am already not getting a great impression from this guy, Combeferre. Please remind me why we have to meet him.”

“He’s friends with Joly and Bossuet,” Combeferre says. “And yes, he’s apparently not very…motivated, but they both insist that he’s a great friend, and I trust them.”

Enjolras huffs. “Fine.”

He turns around and goes back into his room, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, come on—”

“Five minutes, Courfeyrac.”

*

Contrary to all expectation, Joly and Bossuet actually do arrive before Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras. There’s a guy with them that Courfeyrac has never seen before, and he assumes this must be Grantaire.

Courfeyrac’s first impression is how small Grantaire is. Seated, the toes of his sneakers barely brush the floor; he’s broader in the shoulders than lanky Enjolras, but even seated, it’s clear that Enjolras has about a foot on him in terms of height. There’s something very unusual about his face; it’s as if someone had taken features from several different people and stuck them on this guy’s head without bothering to consider spacing or proportion. The overall effect is slightly lopsided and profoundly odd, but when Courfeyrac looks a little bit closer, he realises that somewhere between the long-lashed dark eyes, the pointy little nose, and the gap between the protruding front teeth, there’s a certain bizarre attractiveness to him.

Joly vibrates with excitement as he introduces them, and Grantaire laughs fondly. Joly and Bossuet had overwhelmingly positive things to say about this guy in advance, and it’s clear from watching them interact that Grantaire holds them in the same esteem. He smiles at Combeferre, shakes hands with Courfeyrac, then turns to Enjolras and–

Oh, come on.

When Grantaire gets to Enjolras, he blinks, then blushes. “Hi,” he says, and his voice certainly did not sound that breathless when he was greeting Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

“Hey,” says Enjolras. His eyebrows are raised.

“You’re Enjolras, right?” Grantaire says. “I’ve heard great things, really. Joly says you’re smart. Driven. He says you’re trying to change the world, which, I don’t know how possible it is to really make a difference, the world just kind of stays shitty, but you know, there’s something very noble about the act of trying, I can admire that. And I mean, you never know, you might just be charming enough to be able to do it. Not that you’re just charming, of course, I wasn’t implying…”

Grantaire is fully blushing now, his olive skin stained deeply red. Courfeyrac can’t help but pity the poor fool.

“Thank you,” says Enjolras. “I disagree with your skepticism, but I’m sure I could find a way to…convince you otherwise.”

Wait, what?

Courfeyrac looks at Enjolras. There’s a hint of pink rising on the coppery skin under his freckles, and there’s a nervous sort of smile lingering around his mouth. Holy shit.

Courfeyrac can’t help it; he bursts out laughing.

Everyone turns to him, confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he forces the words out, “it’s just—”

He waves a hand in a circle that encompasses Enjolras and Grantaire, then loses himself in another bout of laughter.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

Enjolras is scowling at him now. Grantaire just looks confused.

“Well, go on, E,” Courfeyrac prompts. “Aren’t you going to ask for his number?”  
“I was getting there,” Enjolras mutters, turning his gaze towards the ground.

“You were?” says Grantaire. He sounds surprised. Courfeyrac can hardly blame him.

Enjolras looks around at everyone, then takes Grantaire by the elbow.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he says, leading Grantaire to the other end of the table. Grantaire goes willingly.

“Wow,” Combeferre says, into the silence.

“Wow, indeed,” agrees Courfeyrac. They look at each other, and start laughing, helplessly. Who would’ve thought?

**Author's Note:**

> This all started on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/radiance-of-the-future)
> 
> Title from ["Can't Take My Eyes Off You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=6&v=NGFToiLtXro) by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.


End file.
